


Genesis (Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis Remix)

by JackyJango



Series: Remixes [6]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Kings & Queens, M/M, Pillow Talk, Slow Build, dadneto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:49:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: Twenty years and a love story between Kings of two Kingdoms- Erik Lehnsherr, King of the war state Genosha and Charles Xavier, King of the peace-keeping Weschester.A love that holds and lasts, or can it?





	Genesis (Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bocje_ce_ustu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bocje_ce_ustu/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527787) by [bocje_ce_ustu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bocje_ce_ustu/pseuds/bocje_ce_ustu). 



> I thoroughly enjoyed bocje_ce_ustu's utterly beautifully written fic and her portrayal of the dynamic between Charles and Erik. 
> 
> I aimed for the same while pitching two Kings of neighbouring countries instead of Hogwarts Headmasters. And if I'm successful in achieving half of it, I'll be glad!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did the original.  
> Cheers!

    

 

* * *

 

       'I’m retiring for the night, Alex,’ Charles says as he walks the corridor leading to the King's chambers. To call it the ‘King's chambers’ would be an amplification of the highest degree as it is only his chambers, now, rubricated with the obligation.

'But your Majesty,’ Alex tries to protest, 'I have been ordered to escort you to your chambers.’

Charles rolls his eyes. With Alex trudging clumsily behind him, the action goes unnoticed.

'I’ve walked this path enough times in my life that I can tell when something's amiss. I will call for you immediately in such a scenario.’ He taps his temple twisting to face his guard. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, Alex, I've had an enervating day. I would very much appreciate the leisure of my company.’

A conflicting battle rages in the boy's mind and the last dredges of Charles’ energy flow out of him on being subjected to it. With a little mental nudging, Alex subsides and wishing him a fair night, disappears around a corner.

Sighing in relief, Charles releases the rehearsed stiffness of his limbs. The crown is an odd weight atop his head, the velvet of his cape lined with furs that drags lazily behind him is surprisingly heavy on his shoulders, and the perpetual layers of fabric that adorn his skin infuriate him endlessly. The coronation ceremony itself had been exhausting, yes, but more so had been the peeping and peering into the royal enclosure searching for a much anticipated face.

The corridor he walks is dark, lighted in bouts by firelight. Despite the grandeur of his outfit, the chill in the air seeps through the brocade of his coat and Charles quickens his steps towards his chambers, pulling his heavy cloak along.

A shadow lurches from behind a pillar and grabs his hips. Before he can scan for a mind, his body detaches itself from him and yelps protesting the intrusion. Charles tries to forge the frame of a mind in the dark, but he doesn't find one. A sudden panic takes over him and before he can act on it, a low laughter fills the corridor, the vibration and the rumbling familiar.

Of course, Charles should learn to expect him at the unforeseen moment. He manhandles the source of the laughter in the direction of a nearby pillar, the sound of laughter mixing with the clank of metal on stone.

Charles catches the silhouette of Erik's face in the soft firelight. The latter's lips lift wryly in amusement.

'That was uncalled for,’ Erik accuses, flexing a shoulder that Charles is certain isn’t hurt.

'You bastard!’ Charles hisses, extracting a chuckle from the other.

'Will you believe me when I say that I was there?’ Erik asks slotting himself next to Charles, a strong arm bracing the shorter man’s waist underneath the velvet of his cape.

'No. I don't! I was looking for you throughout the ceremony. Your presence wouldn't have gone unnoticed.’ Despite the heat in his voice, Charles leans on the taller man, half of the ache in his muscles leaving him instantly.

'In that case, I apologise, your Grace,’ Erik bends his head to whisper the words and nibbles on an earlobe. A warm shiver hugs Charles’ frame.

'Maybe I can consider forgiveness if you make it up to me,’ Charles says airily, 'And if you take that blasted helmet off.’

'I’m sorry I was late,’ Erik says kissing the top of Charles’ head. The moment Erik removes the helmet, Charles identifies the source of delay as a mutiny amongst Erik’s ranks. ‘I purchased eight battalions from the valley and some of the older troops…’ Erik begins and Charles knows well enough that it is best to stop him when he begins to talk military strategies.

Charles stops in his path pulling Erik to a halt with him. ‘Yes, yes, alright. I get it,’ he mutters irritably, ‘C’mere.’ Hooking his hands into the metal hooks of Erik’s combat suit, he pulls the metal bender down to a searing kiss.

The crown slips from Charles’ tilted head and rattles loudly on the stone floor.

*

The warmth of Erik's skin, the heat of his kisses and the endless depth of his mind is sufficient for Charles to lose himself in. Lying together between the furs, limbs tangled slackly, breaths mingling and sated, the vestiges of fatigue ebb completely out of Charles’ body. With Erik's heartbeats singing him lullaby, the beginnings of a blissful sleep has begun to encase his mind when something nudges him.

It's Erik, a lustrous metal floating above his palm.

'What is that?’ Charles asks, detachment crowded by curiosity; fondness more pressing than the need for answers.

'This-’ Erik says, voice and mind smug with pride. The bright silver swoops to hover over Charles’ right hand resting on Erik's heart, '-is the coronation present for the King of Weschester from Genosha. Custom made and hand crafted by the King himself.’

The thought behind the action alone gives wings to Charles’ heart, where it flutters in the tight confines of his chest. The ring is meticulously crafted and the silver exquisite. It hugs Charles’ finger like second skin and flames gold in the warm firelight. But what hitches Charles’ breath is the large sapphire embedded in the centre, seamless to the view.

'Erik…’ Charles croaks, 'This is beautiful. You didn't have to.’

'I wanted to,’ Erik says with a kiss to his hairline.

Charles tosses and turns his hand in the air to admire the view with every changing angle. 'At least, the crystal matches with the blue of my cloak.’

'Oh, I set it to reflect the blue of your eyes.’

Charles laughs jubilantly and huddles further into Erik for warmth. A kiss, warm and sweet in gratitude. 'Romantic!’

'Does that mean I'm forgiven?’

'That happened the moment you showed up.’

Erik tightens his embrace around him and Charles lets the faithful rhythm of Erik's heart carry him to sleep.

 

**_~ 5 years later ~_ **

 

'When is the ceremony?’

'Two full moons from now,’ Erik answers, voice solemn and face grim, 'You’re invited, of course.’

'Of course.’ The empty goblet is a heavyweight in his hand and its contents a bitter taste in his mouth.

'Charles…’

'What?’ Charles snaps, the rattle of the goblet cascading from his hand to the floor engulfing the echo of his voice.

Erik winces. 'You know this is necessary. Genosha is a war state. I need to produce a King or a Queen to command the armies. The Legions need a General. Be whatever the reasons I had to overthrow Shaw, to the commons, it was because he couldn’t produce an heir. Do you want me to suffer his fate?’

Charles doesn’t need the explanation, this is all common knowledge to him. Common knowledge, he realises, does a very poor job of easing his pain. It certainly is a dark joke that Charles isn’t required to produce an heir to Weschester. With Raven being pregnant and presumably with twins, one would ascend the throne as an Xavier. As long as a scholar ascended the throne, the King’s council would leap for joy. If only Genosha had been like Weschester, all this would be for null.

It seems like an old dream now, a distant memory perhaps, of the two of them playing with wooden horses, aiming to take over the world. A dark anger ricochets in Charles’ mind over songs sung and promises made. He coils his telepathy into a bundle and confines it to his head.

‘It was supposed to be you and me against the world,’ he croaks out, his voice losing its usual stability.

Erik takes a step forward from where he is stood at the far end of the room and stops, ‘Then tell me this instant that you’ll merge your kingdom with mine and-’

‘-We have pledged to uphold peace, Erik, and you kill in the name of war-’

‘-Then what would you have me do?’ Erik shouts, every metal fragment in Charles’ bedchamber agreeing with the Genoshan King.

Helplessness is what tires Charles the most. He sighs, the single breath leaving his body in a series of shudders. A lone tear escapes an eye.

‘What is her gift?’ Charles asks finally, praying to the Fire and Water Gods that the answer be anything but telepathy.

Erik inhales audibly, the sight lost to Charles as he concentrates on the crackle of the flames away from the metal bender. ‘She can do something… with plants,’ Erik answers flippantly.

The dryness in Erik’s tone doesn’t befit his to be bride, but it loosens a knot in Charles’ heart. She may touch Erik’s body, but she can never touch his _mind._ That, at least, will always be his.

‘Liebling…’ Erik takes a step forward, but Charles stops him with a raise of his hand.

‘Don’t!’ Charles croaks out, ‘Don’t.’ His singular claim to the Genoshan endearment would be lost forever. Moisture gathers behind his eyes and the embers of the fire smudge to a sunset gold.

Erik presses on and reaches to where he’s sat on the bed and kneels before him. ‘Hey,’ he says, gathering Charles’ hands into his, ‘I know this isn’t easy on you. Fair even. But it isn’t easy on me, either. I’m only doing what is right for my country. I’m only doing my _duty.’_

Charles turns to face Erik then, and he only sees melancholy in those grey eyes. A tide of regret and guilt washes over him and Charles realises with alarming clarity that none of his shields are strong enough to keep Erik out. _He_ is not strong enough to keep Erik out. Charles stands abruptly in the face of epiphany, jostling his hands out of Erik’s hold. The latter mirrors the action instead of letting go.

‘Charles, I won’t think low of you for being jealous or angry with me. I only ask that you’re honest about your feelings with me.’

'Jealousy doesn't begin to describe how I feel,’ Charles admits, trying to free himself from Erik's grasp, but the latter holds on, bringing their foreheads together.

' _A lover who isn't jealous, is no lover at all._ Remember?’ Erik asks, his voice patronising.

The air that had clogged at his throat leaves Charles in a huff and despite himself, his lips quirk. 'You never told me that you read all the books I sent over. Especially, when they were below your grade and written by humans.’

'You know why I read them?’ Erik asks leaning further, such that, now, he's breathing the words onto Charles’ lips, 'I read them because they remind me of you. Reading them makes your absence just a little tolerable.’

The emotion motivating the action matters little now, with how Erik's time would be occupied, leaving very little for him to be missed at all. 'Is that what I am to you, then? A lover?’ Charles asks, half in hope and half in irony.

Erik cradles his right hand between his own and his chest. The familiar beat of Erik's heart mingles with his pulse. 'You’re so much more than that, Charles.’

'Show it to me then,’ Charles says with utter clarity. He wrenches himself from Erik's grasp and moves to lie on the bed. His hands fist in the sheets and he closes his eyes. The withheld tears finally break their tension and seep down to the soft pillows.

Erik hovers over him after a moment and firm hands undress him tenderly. This, however is familiar to the two of them, the press of warm skin, the dizziness of addictive kisses, the slide of sweat slicked bodies; _this_ is one thing that they both agree and act upon, so much so that even the acts of intimacy is broken down to a routine of thesis, antithesis, synthesis.

Charles shakes and gasps under Erik's feather light kisses across his torso. Erik prepares him languidly, all the while kissing him into a drunken haze. Erik's thrusts are slow and deep, eliciting wanton moans out of him. Charles places his hand on Erik's heart and comes to the thought that it belongs to him. Erik kisses him through the bliss, and when they part for air, the sapphire on his finger winks at Charles crudely in the firelight.

'I love you, Erik,’ Charles says ungracefully. His other hand rises to rub soothing circles on Erik's cheek. 'Come in me, Erik. Come in me, darling.’

Erik grunts and obeys him in reply.

 

**_~ 10 years later ~_ **

 

With Erik, there is nothing as _enough_. Through adolescence, Erik had been a persistent presence by his side. As a friend and lover, Charles has known no other. Only now, the boyish charm that had once adorned Erik's angular face has indurated into roguish handsomeness by the hands of war.

Despite the history that follows them, it comes as a surprise to Charles that Erik enjoys raking his hands through his hair. Even bigger a surprise is that Charles enjoys it; even more as the pleasure doubles and flows between them. He nuzzles closer to the metal bender, naked now that he's sitting on Erik's lap. The bliss of afterglow hasn't dimmed the sensitiveness of his scalp and he shivers as the skin tingles and sparks travel through his body.

A loud grumbling of Erik’s stomach quells the quiet of the room. Charles laughs brightly, earning him a nudge on the shoulder.

‘Haven’t you had supper?’ Charles asks, recovering from his mirth.

‘I didn’t. I was in a meeting and then had a lover to entertain,’ Erik tells him, his face dramatising false exhaustion.

Charles kisses him, a press of lips, easy and intimate. ‘You should take more care of yourself, love. You definitely aren’t getting any younger,’ he scolds mildly as he swings his legs from his space between the couch and Erik. He plods to where his residual dinner is sat on a silver tray. Erik would have levitated the tray on his word, of course, but there is an elation in serving Erik.

The cheese has hardened and the bread is no longer warm, but Erik wouldn’t care. Walking back to where Erik is sat on the couch, back leaning on the rest and legs sprawled out on the cushions, Charles promptly straddles Erik’s hips while the latter keeps the tray hovering beside them.

‘What was the meeting about?’ Charles asks, picking a piece of fruit out of the platter.

‘It’s about something I have been discussing with my council for quite some time now.’ Erik opens his mouth around the slice of pineapple Charles places between his lips.

‘Something?’ Charles asks with raised brows. It’s unlike Erik to be elusive. He’s always concise and precise with his replies. Besides, there are no secrets between them; not even when it concerns their kingdoms.

‘Yes, we’re discussing on declaring Genosha as a safe haven for the gifted,’ Erik admits between chewing mouthfuls of fruit.

‘As in-’

‘As in, exclusively for the gifted.’

‘Erik, you can’t do that,’ Charles admonishes. His hand stills mid air in its traversal to the tray.

‘On the contrary, I can. And if our meetings are fruitful, I will,’ Erik says without infliction. A strong shoulder lifts in a shrug.

‘And what about the humans in Genosha?’ Charles asks in disbelief.

‘Do the humans think the same when they throw the gifted out of their borders? Out of their homes?’

‘Erik, two wrongs don’t make a right!’

‘Then do a wrong and right make a right?’

Charles seethes mutely in place. His hands slump on his lap. He untangles his telepathy from Erik and bundles it inside his head.

‘Charles, if we continue to grant them reprieve, they will take us for granted. I’m only doing what is necessary for the safety of our people. For the safety of our kind. For the safety of my son-’

‘-You’re son is safe _here_. With me. You don’t have to worry about his safety.’

Erik’s face twists, the way it always does when it concerns his son.

Charles remembers the day all too well. Having to tell Erik that they had found his son in the hands of a peasant. Magda had crossed the borders with a mewling infant in her arms and had begged the man to take the babe to the King. Charles could see her face in the peasant’s mind, drenched in tears and agony. They found her body in the heart of a tree three months after. As to who attacked the Genoshan palace, nobody could tell. The last trace was rooted to rogue assassins. By the time Erik had returned with his armies, the damage to his capital and palace had already been done. Erik had embarked on a hunt then, and to this day, he hasn’t rested. Knowing him, he probably never will.

‘He can’t stay here forever. This arrangement is temporary. He’s the Genoshan heir,’ Erik says, shrugging Charles out of his lap and swinging his feet on to the floor.

‘That’s precisely why he should stay here. Nobody, except me is privy to his heritage. There is no reason why trouble should find him. He’s safe. I _will_ keep him safe.’

Erik stands abruptly and starts pacing the length of the bedchamber, his long limbs and sun burnt skin compressed in tension. Charles waits, he knows when to strike and when to retreat. In fact, he knows Erik’s every mood and mime.

_What is this really about, Erik?_ He asks finally, the lack of words providing a false sense of privacy.

Erik stops mid path and after a moment sighs, his broad shoulders shrinking in their expanse.

_He doesn’t even know my name,_ the metal bender admits, his mind drenched in melancholy.

‘Oh my love!’ The words wobble out of Charles mouth and he opens his arms towards Erik in invitation. The metal bender takes it.

‘My son isn’t aware of my presence and the love of my life cannot stand by my side. ‘The Lone Life of the Genoshan King’. Should make quite the title for a book. Don’t you think?’ Erik whispers, looking up at him, where he’s sat straddling the taller man’s lap.

Charles’ heart twists painfully in his chest as a tear makes its way down Erik’s face.

‘Hey,’ he cups Erik’s cheeks and draws his thumbs over the damp skin, ‘You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever. Not until I’m alive.’ It’s a miracle by all counts that his voice remains stable.

Erik jerks his head in a curt nod and tightens his hold on Charles’ hip while the former's head slumps ungracefully on his heart.

Charles clutches him tighter to his chest. Carding his hand through Erik’s hair, he mumbles, ‘He started school a few days ago. I go down there sometimes to keep track of the children’s progress. Tomorrow, we can go together, perhaps? I’m sure the children would be glad to meet you.’

Charles feels a nod against his chest and a feeble brush of air against his skin. ‘I love you,’ he hears Erik’s faint whisper.

 

**_~ 15 years later ~_ **

 

‘Your Grace, with all due respect, we’re uncertain about the timeline. What the girl saw could be two days or twenty years from now. We...’ McCoy Sr’s voice skims to the background as Erik’s incisive voice cuts Charles’ mind.  

_Are you sure about this?_

_Yes,_ Charles admits.

_Then how is that these clowns know more about it than I-_

_Not now, Erik._

The voices in the council room rove through Charles’ conscious after that, like butterflies in the air. Now and again, he catches Erik’s deep voice oppressing the others’. But Charles’ mind is too stuck on the ten year old’ visions- the thick fires raging across the capital threatening to flatten the palace to the ground, the sight of him crawling through the aftermath dragging his lifeless legs along as defunct faces stare back at him hauntingly; some humans, some gifted, riddled in a tangle of bodies.

‘-We cannot station the legions forever. Moreover, our position as a peacekeeping state will turn precarious.’ Katherine Summer’s tremulous voice fills the room.

‘You don’t have a standing army. I’m leaving two battalions behind. It’s non-negotiable. I’m sure the King of Weschester agrees with me,’ Erik turns sharply towards Charles.

Charles clears his throat, and stealing himself from his thoughts says, ‘I thank you for all your inputs on the matter. I thank the Genoshan King for his generous offer. However, I will negotiate this with his Grace on my terms. Thank you all again for your time.’

The council acts on his subtle dismissal and one by one, the members drift out of the room.

‘You’ve seen it for yourself?’ Erik asks him once the thick door shuts behind them with a loud _thud_.

Charles nods curtly. Erik is still dressed in his combat suit and the sight alone churns Charles’ empty stomach.

‘You don’t see the enemy in her head? Just what was briefed in the meeting?’

Charles wordlessly nods again, rubbing his palms up and down his thighs.

‘Tell her to see who the enemy is,’ Erik orders.

‘Erik,’ Charles snaps finally, ‘she doesn’t have control over her powers. She can’t control what she sees.’

‘I shouldn’t have listened to you.’ Erik scoffs, the sound bitter and virulent. ‘I should have ended the humans. We wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this-’

‘This is precisely why I didn’t tell you any earlier. You have a way of turning everything to fit your agendas. I won’t let you become a murderer, Erik. Not while I have something to say about it.’ Charles’ voice fills the empty room and reverberates off the stone of the walls.

Erik, stood a few feet away from him, shuts his eyes, his fists tightening on his sides. Somewhere behind Charles, the grille braiding the fire rattles ominously.

A gush of air leaves Erik’s body after a moment, the fight fleeing his eyes. He crosses the distance between them in heavy steps and sinks to his knees in front of Charles.

They stay like that, breathing heavily as time becomes peripheral.

‘She’s so young, Erik,’ Charles says finally, picking up the taller man’s hands into his own on his lap. The contact, somehow, ebbs some of the tension from his limbs. ‘Too young to see the things she has. She doesn’t sleep well now, those memories haunt her.’ _Haunt me._

‘Let me protect you, Charles,’ Erik implores. His grey eyes have lost their twinkle and his voice is sombre. Charles is aware that Erik would burn the world if only to protect his son and him; such is the vigour of his loyalty. That thought alone is petrifying and endearing. Charles’ lips quirk despite himself and he bends to rest his forehead against Erik’s.

‘I’ll station two of my battalions outside the palace and leave one on border patrol. They’ll train the Royal Guard to use arms,’ Erik continues, ‘I know you don’t like it, Charles, but there’s no other way.’

‘Alright,’ Charles concedes, ‘On one condition.’

‘Anything.’

‘In the event that something happens to me or my Kingdom, you will evacuate my people into Genosha and shelter them there.’

‘Of course.’

‘Even the humans.’

‘Charles…’ Erik begins to protest but it’s week in comparison to Charles’ resolve.

‘I mean it, Erik,’ he says gravely, ‘or else, I won't allow your armies within five feet of my borders.’

Erik’s mind quests for a way to slip out the offer, but in the end, his need to protect outweighs the hatred he hoards. Reluctantly, he nods with the barest jerk of his head.

_Promise me. Swear it on our love,_ Charles presses.

Erik cups Charles’ right hand between his own. The ring warms around Charles’ finger and Erik whispers in his head, _I promise._

 

**_~ 20 years later ~_ **

 

Coupling with Erik will always be a novelty to Charles. With two kingdoms and antithetical ideologies separating them, the possibilities of sharing a bed have dwindled in the passing years. That, however, has only served to elevate their lust when they do come together.

Now, for instance, where Charles is knelt on the floor with the delicious weight of Erik’s cock in his mouth and the lustful hum of Erik’s thoughts in his head.

_Liebling, quit teasing._ It’s a plea, the closest that Erik is capable of.

Charles smiles around Erik’s cockhead and swirls his tongue along the underside. The muscles of Erik’s hip under Charles’ hand stiffen and a huff of breath leaves the taller man.

Encouraged, Charles begins to suck on the head slowly. He parts his lips just enough to accommodate the width, sucks and slowly releases. Again and again. His own cock is hard and pressing against his stomach, but that can wait. He, after all, has a point to prove.

_Whatever I’ve done to deserve this, I’m sorry for it._ Erik’s voice in his head is strangled.

Charles pauses to look up at Erik. The latter’s eyes are screwed shut, jaws clenched and face twisted in pleasure. Taking pity, Charles bobs his head on Erik’s shaft, easing further down the length with every turn. Erik’s hands organically come to cradle his neck.

Erik smells like horse, dust and sweat. Charles must have expected that as he had pulled Erik into his chambers bypassing the palace gates. He hadn’t given the man a chance to bathe. But it matters little, because surpassing it all is the salty taste of Erik, achingly familiar.

_Charles, I won’t last for long..._

As if to prove his point, Erik begins to thrust into his mouth. The telepath opens his throat to fit Erik completely in. Erik comes down his throat, bright and sudden, pulling Charles along with him.

Afterwards, they lay on Charles’ bed, limbs strewn languorously and hands roving easily.

‘Is this about Perotia?’ Erik asks abruptly while Charles is cataloguing the new scars on the latter’s body.

‘No.’ The wit the man possesses doesn’t trespass his misdeeds.

‘Then-’

‘One year. That’s what this is about. You didn’t write back,’ Charles says plainly, ghosting his finger over a patch of abraded skin.

‘I didn’t have the means to, Charles. The legions were lacking the supplies. They used the parchments to build fires. I wanted to.’ Erik’s telling the truth, Charles can feel it ringing in his head.

‘Did anything happen while I was away? Did Irene see something else?’ Erik asks, his voice concealing dread, but his mind stained with it.

In the past five years, the girl had seen variations of the same vision, some longer than the others. They rarely gave away new information or identity. The number of Genoshan troops guarding the Weschester borders had increased from one to five. With three battalions guarding the mighty Xavierian palace, there hadn’t been a hint of attack... Yet.

Charles remembers the days Irene would wake up trembling with fear, black smoke and thick blood clogging her mind. Her white eyes, however, would show nothing. Sometimes, Charles would soothe her with lullabies while other times with his telepathy. Some other times, he has had to erase the memory from her mind unreservedly.

A few days ago, she had come running to him while he was in the middle of a meeting with his council. ‘I heard something with what I saw,’ she had declared and had recited the lines as confusion and turmoil locked the faces of his council members. Charles shares the memory with Erik exempting the gore.

 

>   _The next of kin draws blood to defend_
> 
> _The one who creates, protects_

‘Isn’t the last line a saying of your Fire God?’ Erik asks, drawing his fingertips up and down Charles’s back.

‘Yes, my council thinks that it is a message from the Gods. They have let logic slip completely.’ Erik’s chest shakes below his head at the ludicrousness.

‘What do _you_ think?’ the metal bender asks with the residuals of a smile in his voice.

‘I don’t know what to make of the first line but there is some truth to the second, I suppose.’

Erik nudges him mentally. Twisting to balance on an elbow, Charles looks up at Erik and with a hand on his heart, says fondly, ‘You’re my creator. You helped me fight my step-brother. You helped me ascend the throne. You’re my protector. You stood by me and held my hand. With you, I feel safe.’ He presses the love and admiration that fills his heart bearing the metal bender’s name onto Erik’s mind.

A kiss, sweet and slow in gratitude.

They’re two edges of the same sword, one sharp and one blunt. They’re old lovers and older friends. Without one, the other wouldn't exist.

‘I’m stewing in disgust. Care for a swim in the lake?’ Erik asks when they part, the dizziness of the kiss and the weight of their love exhilarating in their minds.

‘In this weather?’ Charles pinches Erik’s side. ‘And in this time of night? No way. Come, a bath must be drawn by now.’

They reluctantly make their way out of bed, donning their robes on the way to the doors.

Charles is the first to hear the commotion on the outside. Before panic takes over, he realises the source to be Irene and Angel, her primary carer, grappling with Alex for the King’s ear.

‘Alex, let them be,’ he orders the blonde in the corridor and as Alex gives way, Irene sprints in the direction of his voice.

‘Having another nightmare, my dear?’ he asks petting her head.

Erik stands guard behind him. On alert, as he always does outside their bedchambers.

‘I had another vision,’ the girl admits, ‘I heard something today.’

The occupants of the corridor look at each other and then at the girl, waiting for her utterance.

When she does, her blunt words echo loudly in the stone corridor.

 

>  ‘ _The next of kin draws blood to defend_
> 
> _The one who creates, protects_
> 
> _And the one who protects, destroys’_

-

**Author's Note:**

> Also, [JackyJango](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com) on Tumblr
> 
> If you're still reading, thanks a tonne!


End file.
